A friend took this photograph last week while walking around Stiges, in Spain.
I’ve recently been reading Rimbaud, and on seeing this image these lines immediately came to mind:
O the ashen face, the course thatch, the crystal arms! The cannon I collapse upon, through a topple of trees and soft air.
I should imagine my friend was far from ashen faced when he returned from Spain. All that sun, all that blue, stretching away to the far horizon.
Jealous? Well, maybe I was, for a day or two.
But, as Rimbaud put it: I is someone else.